The Salvaged Prince
by Diem Kieu
Summary: Frodo Baggins awakens in the realm of DunBroch due to an unnatural storm on the Sundering Seas and begins to fall for the princess who saved his life...
1. Chapter I

The chill of the strange night air clung to Frodo's skin as the whinnying of a horse and the thick aroma of a campfire aroused him from a shroud of darkness. When he first opened his eyes, all he could see was a blur of bizarre shadows. His heart began to pound.

_Where am I? Have I been taken prisoner again? Who are my captors? Orcs? Rangers?_

Slowly but surely, the dark blotches became clearer until he could make them out as the shapes of trees reaching out to the starlit sky above, the silver crescent of the moon in full view. His breath deepened as he kept his gaze heavenward, allowing his muscles to relax and the earth beneath him to cradle his body as his vision sharpened. The canopy of the night sky had always comforted him, especially when the moon and stars were present to shed their silvery light.

A folded blanket had been placed beneath his head, and a dark, soft and well-worn cloak was draped over him. He began to feel the heat from the fire soothe the goose bumps that had formed on his bare skin as he started to wiggle his fingers and toes. No ropes, chains, or strips of crude cloth restrained his movements. Frodo slowly rolled to one side, facing the campfire. He caught a glimpse past the flickering flames of a lithe, slender figure with a thick wild mane of red curls and a large, burly horse covered with patches of black and white.

Frodo finally decided to sit up in order to get a closer look, letting the cloak fall to his waist as he observed the redheaded figure. He could now clearly see that the figure was female and seemed to be packing something on the back of her horse. Frodo looked around once more. No one else was there.

The lass looked over her shoulder at him.

"You're awake, finally. I was beginning to think that I had picked up a dead corpse!"

Frodo's eyes widened.

"How long has it been?"

"Since you've lost consciousness? I have no idea. I found you this morning, and you've been out cold ever since!"

The lass came up to him and plopped ungracefully to the ground by his side. The hem of her simple blue green dress spread out to where he lay.

"Now, who are you, and where are you from? I don't want to leave you out here, but I don't think my mother would be thrilled about me bringing home a stranger."

He cleared his throat.

" My name is Frodo Baggins, and I come from the Shire."

She blinked as her face contorted into an expression of utter confusion. He might as well have spoken gibberish.

"_Excuse me?_ Well, first of all, I have never heard of the Baggins clan! Secondly, where and _what_ on earth is the Shire?"

Frodo took a deep breath before he attempted anything further.

"Well, surely you've heard of Bree or Hobbiton?"

"No! I haven't heard those names before in my life!" the redheaded lass replied.

"You must know of the Reunited Kingdom of Gondor!"

"**_What?! _**Where do you think you are?"

"I have to be _somewhere_ in Middle Earth, unless I somehow crashed into the Undying Lands!"

"I'm afraid you're gravely mistaken. We're in the forest near the castle of DunBroch!"

Frodo blinked. Of all the tales, maps, and old books in his Uncle Bilbo's library, not one had made mention of the realm of DunBroch. He slumped back down, his head thumping against the folded blanket as he smacked his palm against his forehead.

_DunBroch! Where in Arda was DunBroch?! _

His hand slid down his face, quickly making its way to his chest as it groped for the white stone that Queen Arwen had left him. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt it resting against his naked breast as he muttered something under his breath:

"Gandalf…"

Gandalf. Yes. Now he remembered. The old wizard had sent him to another realm…


	2. Chapter II

With his head resting against the blanket, Frodo once again closed his eyes and started to jog his memory.

Gandalf…What had conspired between them last? The last thing he had heard before waking up to the scent of burning wood was his deep mighty voice chanting a strange incantation and the roars of howling winds…

He was heading for the Undying Lands!

†

_The cool zephyr of the sea caressed Frodo's face as the white ship set sail for the Undying Lands, as if to console him. _

_His calling had come from the coast of the setting sun, yet that calling had required him to forsake all that he held dear – the Shire, the forest of Lórien, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and most of all, his friend among friends, Samwise Gamgee. He could see and feel the light of Galadriel's phial fading slowly as the ship drifted further away from the shore of Middle Earth. The wind blew his deep brown curls into tangles as he went through his memories one by one – the faces of his late mother and father, his time in the Shire with his Uncle Bilbo, the trials of his quest with the Ring, the wedding of Sam and Rosie… Suddenly tears, like pearls slipping from his watery blue eyes, landed upon the pale and beautifully carved elven wood of the ship. The next thing Frodo knew, he felt a mighty yet benign hand upon his shoulder and heard the familiar voice of an elderly but powerful man. _

_ "Do not let your heart be troubled. We are headed from what we know to a far better place."_

_ It was Gandalf, the wizard who had guided him on his quest, as he had done for Bilbo before him. He was once a grey wizard, but his robes had turned white after his encounter with the Balrog. Now, work in Middle Earth was done for both of them, as well as for everyone else who rode this ship – or so it seemed. _

_ The Lady Galadriel was among them, along with Elrond, the lord of Imladris and the father of Queen Arwen, and the aging Bilbo Baggins. The wind toyed with Galadriel's long golden tresses like a long lost lover as they flowed beneath her ivory traveling cloak. Her fine, regal white gown made her resemble a princess bride ready to be walked down the aisle and surrender to the arms of some fair prince once and for all. _

_Bilbo's hair, once bright and curly like that of any hobbit, was now wiry and hoary from his extensive years with the Ring. His face had more lines than the bark of Fangorn himself. His attire of sage green, mellow gold, and taupe, although fine indeed, seemed only to reinforce his ever-withering youth. _

_Youth among the hobbits on the ship seemed to reside solely in Frodo. The wind continued to touch his smooth, fair-skinned face. He almost could have been mistaken for a little princeling, especially with the simple yet beautiful vest and coat that happened to match his eyes. Yet speaking to him would prove otherwise, for his maturity and experience with the Ring would have been unfurled. Hence there lay the reason why he stepped on this ship and did not stay in the Shire._

_Gandalf's voice suddenly awakened Frodo from his thoughts. _

_"Frodo, are you all right?"_

_"Yes, I'm fine."_

_"You were reflecting on your life in Middle Earth, weren't you?" _

_"I-I was, actually." _

_Frodo, although he knew the wizard quite well, was rather surprised that he correctly assumed his thoughts. He didn't do a very good job hiding it. _

_"Do not worry. It's actually quite an apt action for an occasion such as this," reassured the wizard. _

_"I suppose. I can feel the light of Galadriel's phial fading." _

_ The lady chimed in at the mentioning of her gift to the former Ring-Bearer. _

_ "Fear not. You shall soon witness a star far brighter than Éarendil could ever be." _

_ She then gazed off into the sky, smiling at its beauty. Frodo had never seen her happier – perhaps this was only because she had been so focused on the quest that was at hand, although it was Elrond's first time seeing her so joyous as well. Maybe it was because she was finally released from her duties concerning the mortal world. Knowing her, one could never know for sure. However, it was no wonder that she was admiring the skies above. Its shades of gold, rose-gold, oranges, crimsons, purples, and blues outshone the finest silks crafted by the hands of Men (although perhaps not those of the Elves, since they were wise and skilled beyond any creature) as the sun sunk into the waters ahead like a neighboring ship surrendering to its demise. _

_ According to the lore Frodo had been told, this was why the Undying Lands were to the west of Middle Earth – as the sun sets in the sky of Arda on the western horizon, so does the soul set in the sky of life in a paradise to the west of a mortal world… _

_ A heavy sigh passed Elrond's lips as he noticed Frodo place his hand on his left shoulder. _

_ " 'Tis that wretched Morgul wound again, isn't it?" _

_ Frodo nodded, unwilling to speak of his grim scar. _

_ "Is that the true reason you're here with us?" _

_ "Aye," said the hobbit, his voice quiet and reluctant. _

_ That night, when he lay awake on a bed as soft as clouds and far too comfortable to be believed as part of the sleeping quarters on the upper deck of the ship, he had a clear and exquisite view of the night sky's indigo velvet, adorned with stars glimmering like diamonds – no, not diamonds, but like the Arkenstone that Bilbo spoke of in the tales of his adventures – tens of thousands of Arkenstones lighting up the heavens that floated upon the fair lands the Elves called home, with a bright mithril orb as their moon. The waves rocked him gently as a mother would cradle her child, slowly lulling him to sleep…_

_…_

_The wretched, icy piercing pain in Frodo's shoulder awakened him from his slumbers. Upon opening his eyes, the sky was as dark as the nightmares that had haunted his sleep back in the Shire. The glittering stars that he had admired hours before had disappeared behind black clouds, like a Nazgûl's veil that had blocked out all light and hope. The mithril moon was nowhere to be seen. _

_ A crash of thunder boomed suddenly, causing Frodo's startled eyes to widen in fear as a flash of lightning cracked in the sky. Elvish crewmen rushed to prepare to tread the imminent storm. Rain began to patter upon the ship's wood as Frodo scurried to grab his cloak and wrapped it closely about his person. He could see Gandalf hurrying to aid them with an angered look upon his face. Elrond ran close behind to lend an extra pair of hands. Galadriel, as well as Bilbo, stood in a state similar to Frodo's, wrought with fear and worry. Galadriel's white cloak was about her, her hair blowing frantically in the howling winds. The thunder rolled louder as the rain fell harder upon the ship. The waves grew mightier and more violent. The once serene white ship was now a chaotic, soaking wet riot of motion, thunder, and lightning. _

_ "What foul force could have sent this storm? Is the will of Ulmo himself set against us?!" Bilbo cried. _

_ Suddenly, Gandalf could hear vile but indistinguishable voices in the air._

_ "No, Bilbo!" _

_ A crash of thunder and lightning rattled the white ship. _

_ "This is the work of evil spirits! They are the servants of Sauron making one last attempt to destroy us!" _

_ "The Ring is gone!" Elrond shouted. "What could they possibly gain?!" _

_ Gandalf glanced grimly over his shoulder at the Lord of Imladris. _

_ "Revenge." _

_ Suddenly, Gandalf's blood boiled at the sound of one evil and recognizable voice could be heard among the demonic chorus and the chaos of the storm. _

_ "DAMN YOU, SARUMAN!" _

_ Another crash of thunder filled the air. _

_ "EVEN IN DEATH, YOU DO NOT CEASE TO TORMENT US! END THIS MADNESS!" _

_ His shouts were to no avail. _

_"We need to get Frodo somewhere safe!" _

_ "Where is there to go?!" Elrond replied. "The Undying Lands were our only hope!" _

_"Somewhere that is beyond the sight of these foul creatures! Come, Frodo!" _

_ The Ringbearer obeyed. The next thing he knew, Gandalf had grasped his shoulders as the wizard began to chant an incantation in something in a foreign tongue, a strange form of Elvish… then everything faded to black. _


	3. Chapter III

The first rays of morning light crept obnoxiously into Merida's room as she awoke from her slumbers. As usual, her mane was a wild tangled mess of brilliant red curls that could have provided a good amount of fodder for a bird's nest.

She wasn't quite awake yet as she lazily scanned the room. Checking for her mother's presence had long been second nature to her. The Queen of DunBroch was almost always at the foot of her bed to wake her and remind her of the day's plans – normally they were lessons on etiquette, poetry, music, or the history, geography, and politics of the kingdom they both inhabited.

Even Merida had to admit that Queen Elinor had significantly eased her pressures upon her daughter after she had returned from her ursine form. Nonetheless, there was no ridding of her strong desire to make her daughter a lady – or at least have her act like one when the occasion called for it.

The queen was nowhere in sight. Eyes widening with joy, Merida leapt out of her bed and quickly threw on her blue-green overdress. The queen's absence could only mean one thing – there were no lessons or plans. Merida didn't have to be a lady today.

She splashed her face with water and fumbled for her brush, rushing through her morning routine to the point where she could hear her curls snap from the force. After she was done, the bristles were riddled with untamable red tangles. She wiped her face with the washcloth as if it were a rag and grabbed her bow, sword, and quiver full of arrows.

After putting on her stockings and shoes, Merida dashed down the castle stairs, grabbing a couple of apples from a servant's basket as she ran to the stables, where her beloved steed awaited her.

"Mornin' to you, Angus!" she said heartily as she gave the horse one of the apples. She scarfed down the other one for her breakfast. She finished the last bite in a heartbeat and tossed the core to the side.

"Are you ready for a little adventure?"

Angus gave an enthusiastic neigh of approval.

Within minutes, they were riding through the gates of Castle DunBroch and out into the forest – her favorite place to get a healthy dose of freedom. The next thing Merida knew, she was shooting arrows at the dangling wooden targets she had made and hung from the trees herself. The paint could barely be seen on them, and they were each already filled with a bouquet of arrows. If she had taken the time to retrieve them all, she would have had enough arrows to last her quiver for at least several months. The wind blew in her hair as she rode deeper into the forest, the midmorning sun peeking through the canopy as a large grin crossed her lips. However, within a few moments the canopy thickened, reducing the rays that could pass through. Angus halted abruptly at the sight of a trail of will-o'-the-wisps.

Merida's heart stopped at the sudden halt and almost fell off her horse. After quickly regaining her composure, she began to follow the wisps, furrowing her brow in concentration. She had seen them before. Where were they leading her now?

Angus trailed behind her reluctantly. They hadn't walked very far when Merida noticed that the will-o'-the-wisp that stood at the end of the path was white, as opposed to the others, whose glow was an eerie blue. As the wisps disappeared one by one, Merida could make out the slender silhouette of a man lying on his side. She continued, following the path until the last blue wisp vanished into thin air. The white wisp retreated into a stone that hung from the man's neck.

She cautiously turned him onto his back. The man was unconscious and wore nothing else. Merida gasped and quickly grabbed her cloak from Angus' saddle, throwing it on top of him to cover his nakedness. She then grabbed a blanket, folded it, and carefully placed it beneath his head. If she were to guess, she would have assumed that he wasn't much older than she was. His long, dark eyelashes contrasted sharply with his alabaster complexion, as did his shapely brows. The thick curls on his head were the color of burnt umber.

She placed her hand a few inches above his mouth. At least she knew he was breathing. She took the handles of Angus' bridle, took him to a nearby tree, and tethered him there. Merida then gathered a generous bundle of stray twigs in order to start a campfire. After kindling the fire, she sat at the other side and watched him, not knowing what else to do. For a long while, nothing happened. Occasionally she'd go out to find some more wood to kindle the fire. Long hours passed before she could identify any sign of life from the man she rescued other than the rising and falling of his chest. She didn't know him, but she thought that she ought to not leave an unconscious stranger out in the open. What seemed like ages passed before Angus finally neighed, breaking a long tense silence as Merida began to pack her bow and quiver back on him.

She looked over her shoulder. The stranger had finally woken up.

"You're awake, finally. I was beginning to think that I had picked up a dead corpse!"


	4. Chapter IV

"Frodo?"

He groaned, slowly removing his arm from over his eyes at the sound of his name. The red-headed lass was calling him.

"Frodo? Are you all right?"

"Yes," he replied. "Sorry. Bad memories just came to my mind, that's all."

"Well, we'd best be out of here. If I'm out much longer, my mother will kill me!"

A small smile crept on Frodo's lips. Now that he thought about it, her accent was pleasantly reminiscent to that of his cousin Pippin.

He rose, wrapping the cloak about him for modesty's sake before taking the blanket he had used as a pillow as Merida put out the fire. He noticed that his limbs were much longer than he remembered. The cloak hovered over his ankles, revealing the absence of the shaggy fur that once covered the tops of his feet.

"Right now, it seems as if I'm at a bit of a disadvantage," he said to her, keeping that smile on his face in order to hide his surprise at the fact that she barely reached his shoulder. She certainly wasn't a halfling.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"In what way?"

"You know my name well enough, but I don't know yours."

The lass began to smile back at him.

"It's Merida."

"Merida," he echoed. "That's quite a lovely name. There isn't anything like that where I come from."

"You have nice manners for someone who roams the forest in naught but his skin. Now get on, or the queen will have all the clans hunting us down like wild game!"

Merida swiftly mounted her horse. Frodo followed her lead.

"I'd suggest you hold on," she warned. "It's going to be a rough ride!"

Frodo heeded, locking his arms around her waist securely.

"YA!"

With one whip of the reins from Merida, Angus dashed off at breakneck speed, leaving the wind to blow wildly through the tresses of both riders.

Merida already knew she was in trouble, and she neither wanted nor needed to get into any more.


	5. Chapter V

Before he knew it, Frodo could make out the image of what looked like a stone fortress on a cliff green with vegetation, made visible only by the torches that hung from the outer walls. In minutes, he and Merida were riding through the open, gateless entrance – which he found very unusual.

Once they were within the walls, Merida got off her horse. Frodo again followed her lead. There were still a few servants finishing the last of their tasks for the evening as she led Angus back into the stables. Not knowing what else to do, Frodo silently shadowed her as she put her beloved horse in the stall.

"Good night, Angus," she cooed as she closed the gate behind him. "Sleep tight, and don't let the hay bugs bite." After giving her beloved steed one final wink before leaving the stables, she let out a heavy sigh, preparing herself for her mother's confrontation. Frodo still trailed behind her silently. As soon as she entered the main hall, she could hear a voice that was all too familiar.

"You're home late this evening."

Merida turned around. Her mother Elinor was on her way down the staircase. She quickened her pace once she was past the bottom step.

"Where were you?! I nearly had to send out your father and his men after you!"

"Umm…. I-I was… in the forest."

"After dark? Merida! I was worried sick! What on earth were you doing out there during those ungodly hours?!"

Frodo's muscles tightened in discomfort over witnessing a discussion that was clearly meant solely for the ears of a mother and her daughter before reluctantly interfering.

"She was with me, milady."

The queen suddenly looked over her shoulder, startled by the foreign voice. Frodo stepped into the light and tried to maintain his dignity, a difficult feat for a man clad in nothing but a girl's cloak. The queen glared briefly at him before turning back to Merida.

"You brought a stranger home?! Ever since our ordeal, heaven knows I've tried to be more understanding, but this is beyond unacceptable! Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"He was lost and unconscious in the forest! I couldn't just leave him out there!"

"How can you say that when you don't even know who he is? My goodness, you haven't even told me his name!"

"It's Frodo!" Merida exclaimed, gesturing towards him.

"What she says is true," he interfered, only briefly making eye contact with the queen before drawing his gaze to the ground, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his face.

"My lady, I mean you no disrespect, but your daughter saved my life."

"Tell me your name again," she ordered.

"Frodo. Frodo Baggins."

"Baggins?" questioned Elinor. "I've never heard the name of that clan in my life."

_That's exactly what I said to him when he told me that_, Merida thought to herself.

"I understand," Frodo said. "My kin are so far away that none save me have even heard of DunBroch." He had learned his lesson about mentioning the Shire – or anywhere in Middle Earth.

"I see," she replied.

"I also understand your concern about strange people in your home," he continued. "I do not wish to intrude on you. I'll leave at once if that is what you wish."

"But Frodo, where will you - ?!"

Merida was cut off by the loud thump of the large wooden doors.

All three parties turned their gaze in its direction. A tall, large man clad in a blue and green tartan kilt along with a woolen shirt and a horned helmet marched in, proudly boasting his ordeals with the demon bear Mor'du – a story that all save one in the room had heard a thousand times.

"Then, out of nowhere, comes the biggest bear you've ever seen – his hide littered with the weapons of fallen warriors, his face scarred with one dead eye! I drew my sword, and – whoosh! With one swipe, my sword shattered, and then – chomp! My leg was clean off, and down the monster's throat it went!"

His voice bellowed throughout the room as he raised the wooden peg that had served in place of his missing limb for all to see.

Elinor and Merida both smiled awkwardly at him and took a few small steps back. Frodo turned to face him, his cerulean eyes widening in fascination, his lips parting in an awe-filled gawk as he wrapped Merida's cloak about his person once more. The man continued his story, apparently unaware of the reactions of those around him.

"I did not see the brute again until my daughter came of age. My lovely wife Queen Elinor decided to hold a feast for all of the eligible suitors, but alas, my Merida, being the bold lass she is, rejected them all! I was about to make a smart remark about the victorious Wee Dingwall, but when I looked over my shoulder, she had vanished into thin air! The next thing I knew, she had reappeared from the crowd, shot each target straight in the eye, and split Wee Dingwall's arrow in two!"

Merida's fake grin had vanished. She was now beaming with approval of her father's song-worthy depiction of her. Elinor authoritatively cleared her throat. The beam of revelry from telling his tale faded quickly as he regained his composure. He then immediately noticed the young man before him, whose eyes were as wide with wonder as a child's.

"Ah, I like this lad already!" he remarked as he gave Frodo a hearty slap on the back. He then whipped his sword from his belt and threw it into his arms, sheath and all.

"Oh – I hope you don't mind sharpenin' this. Our smith just resigned yesterday!"

Merida followed her father's lead, throwing in her quiver full of arrows along with the sword at her hip.

"Sharpen these up too while you're at it. Arrows aren't much of a use when they're blunt!" she said as she gave him a wink.

"Fergus!" Elinor exclaimed. "Have you even taken a look at him?! You cannot put a man to work when he's in naught but our daughter's cloak!"

"Eh?" Fergus turned around to look the young man who now had his sword along with Merida's array of weapons in his arms.

"Oh! You're absolutely right, Elinor! Fortunately, that'll be an easy fix! OH, SEAMSTRESS!"

Within minutes, a plump lady with an array of pins and needles pinned to her apron along with numerous spools of thread filling its pockets came rushing into the room.

"Yes?"

"Go fetch some clothes for this young man and make sure they fit him good and proper!"

She turned over to Frodo and got a good glance of his current attire.

"Good heavens! Come with me, lad!"

With that, she grabbed him by the wrist and hastily led him to her sewing chamber. The bundle of weaponry in his arms clattered and clanged to the floor and was left in a chaotic pile in the middle of the throne room.

Fergus cheerfully turned over to Elinor, who was now standing by her carved wooden throne.

"There! Problem solved!"

The queen plopped into her seat in an uncharacteristically maladroit manner, rubbing her forehead with one hand as she let out a heavy sigh.

Merida was grinning ear to ear as she dashed out of the room.

_YES! Thank you, father! _


	6. Chapter VI

The early morning rays were still peeking through the window of the chamber where Frodo was to complete his newfound work. The weapons he had left in the middle of the throne room the night before now lay in a clumsy heap in the corner.

The seamstress had made sure he was well clothed. Frodo was now garbed in the blue, green, and maroon tartan of King Fergus' clan, along with a simple grey short-sleeved shirt with a small, thin slit at the neckline. A leather belt now encircled his waist, emulating the fashion that he had remembered Aragorn wearing his. He had refused the boots that she had offered him, insisting that he was quite used to walking barefoot.

Frodo took a nervous step closer to the grinding wheel before him. He had virtually no proficiency in the art of sharpening weapons, and his skills at wielding them were novice at best. Taking an arrow from Merida's quiver, he nervously took a seat on the stool in front of it, pressing his foot cautiously against the pedal as he put the arrow's head against its rough surface. Sparks flew wildly in a violent array of white, red, yellow, and orange as its flint grinded against the stone's rough surface. He halted, intimidated by the dangerous flailing of the sparks. The arrow he was sharpening showed no apparent signs of improvement.

He pressed the arrowhead to the wheel again, only to overreact once more to the fiery spray. He looked once more at his work so far. As far as he could tell, it still showed no results whatsoever. Taking a deep breath and mustering all of his courage, he took the head to the wheel again, his eyes fixed on the arrow. The sparks flew like a grand display of Gandalf's fireworks on a midsummer's eve. Frodo pressed the arrow to the stone relentlessly – until he sensed an unexpected wave of heat coming from his right. As it turned out, his inexperience had caused a stack of hay to catch on fire! He jumped from his stool, frantically looking about for anything to smother the flames or put them out. Fortunately, there was a large pail of water in the other corner of the room. As soon as he saw it, he sprinted over and tossed its contents into the blazes, reducing it to a smoking, hissing black mess. He picked up the arrow and plopped once more on the stool with a loud breath of relief before examining his work. The arrowhead that he had been working on had been reduced to a sliver. At this level, there was no way he could keep his new occupation.

The door gave a loud creak, and it took a moment for Frodo's eyes to adjust to the spilling daylight as Merida walked into the room.

"How's the work coming along?"

The only reply Frodo was able was a grimace as he showed her the arrow he'd been working on. Merida immediately took it and examined his handiwork.

"I see you made the seamstress a new sewing needle," she remarked. "That's all right. I've got plenty more arrows – I just need to take the time to retrieve them from my targets!"

She then looked over at the grinding wheel and noticed the blackened and still smoking haystack. "

Um, Frodo… That wheel over there's for sharpening axes."

"Oh – thanks for the information," he replied with a sheepish grin.

"So, d'ya know anything about sword fighting?"

"A little, yes – ˮ

Merida dashed off to the wall, grabbed one the swords that hung from it, and tossed it to him before he could finish his stammering response. Before he knew it, she'd taken him by the wrist and was leading him out into the courtyard.

"Come with me! Let's see how good of a swordsman you are!" As soon as they were in a good open spot, Merida drew out her sword, its point hovering mere inches away from his throat. Frodo's hands trembled as they barely gripped his sword. Before he could even make his first counterattack, the weapon slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground. Merida put hers back in her sheath after glancing at her opponent's fallen sword, shaking her head in disappointment.

"Aye, you definitely need some work." Her eyes brightened quickly enough as she reached for her bow and one of her arrows. "Are you any better at archery?"

"No!"

Frodo quickly ducked as she fired an arrow at a basket that rested on the head of a passerby servant. Unfortunately for her, the arrow instead pierced a piece of fruit that one of her little brothers had stolen – right when he was about to take his first bite.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

Merida immediately rushed over to him.

"Oh my goodness! Harris – are you all right?!"

Luckily, the only casualty was his snack. Merida sighed in relief as she pulled out a cloth-wrapped sweet.

"Here – take this. Keep well out of the way next time and don't tell Mum!"

Harris' eyes brightened at the sight of his treat, beaming as he looked up at his sister and nodded. He dashed off giggling with joy. Merida rose and walked back to Frodo, dusting off her skirts.

"That was one of my wee brothers. They can always be bribed with sweets," she commented with a wink.

"As for you… well, you've got a long way to go, my friend!"


End file.
